


to be happy

by championstunic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, Gen, No Plot/Plotless, Slice of Life, Vignette, no plot in sight just random scenes and vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29888838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/championstunic/pseuds/championstunic
Summary: The sights and sounds of his childhood home help to fan the flames, reminding Sachirou what he’s been through to get to this moment. Reminding him that it’s okay to feel like this sometimes, as long as he doesn’t let it extinguish him completely.Or: Hirugami Sachirou's life, told in pieces.
Relationships: Hirugami Fukurou & Hirugami Sachirou, Hirugami Sachirou & Hirugami Shouko, Hirugami Sachirou & Hoshiumi Kourai
Kudos: 5
Collections: Haikyuu Big Bang 2020





	to be happy

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from [this translation](https://twitter.com/TrianaNero/status/1324387737458233345?s=20) of the official guidebook on why furudate gave hirugami is name:   
> "so he becomes happy"

A missed block. A fumbled receive. A service error. These mistakes replay in Sachirou’s head and they haunt him long after he’s left the court. He tells himself that he just needs to work hard to get better. The mistakes will only continue if he takes a single day off. As long as he can keep up with his teammates — no, if he can _surpass_ his teammates — by giving his all to volleyball, he can be just like his brother and sister. He’ll be successful in the sport, and that’s what he needs to finally feel happy. That success and _only_ that success will make everything — the sleepless nights, the callouses, the long individual practices, even the _mistakes_ — worth it. He’ll spend his entire life playing volleyball, like he’s always planned, and it’ll all be worth it…

Right?

-

“I met a boy a few days ago,” Sachirou says, flipping over the egg in the frying pan. The house is empty except for his dog, Kotarou, who stares up at him expectantly like he’s intently paying attention to Sachirou’s recollection of the week’s events. Sachirou pauses, listening to the sizzling of the oil in the pan fill up the otherwise quiet kitchen. “Well, I guess I didn’t _meet_ him for the first time that day. He’s on my volleyball team so I’ve seen him before. But I never talked to him until a few days ago.”

Kotarou doesn’t make any movement as Sachirou turns away from the stove to look at him. His tail thumps against the tile of the floor once, though, and Sachirou takes that as an adequate response. 

Talking to his dog because no one else is around has become something Sachirou’s gotten used to doing when he’s home from school, ever since his siblings became increasingly more invested with pursuing their careers in volleyball. Now, Sachirou’s older brother and sister are gone almost as often as their parents have always been, busy with away games and training camps. Even on one of the rare Saturday mornings when Sachirou is able to visit home from boarding school, his dog is his only company. However, it’s never bothered Sachirou much, because he’s more of a captivated audience than his siblings often were.

Sachirou shuts off the gas and slides the egg out of the pan onto a bowl of rice he has ready next to the stove. “He said something kind of funny to me, actually. He said I could just _quit_ volleyball.” Sachirou puts his chopsticks down and sets his hands on either side of the bowl, placing some of his weight on his palms and leaning forward against the counter. He hangs his head to look at his knuckles. The scratches on his right hand from the events of a few days ago look back up at him, already scabbing over. His emotions from that afternoon — frustration, anger, fear — flood back into him and he can feel his eyes start to burn. He chokes out a bitter laugh. “Can you believe that? I can just _quit_ if I don’t like it.” Sachirou turns back to his dog, and a tear escapes his eye. 

Kotarou stares at him expectantly, tail still wagging. He has no idea of the gravity of what Sachirou is saying to him, and how he struggles to let every word stumble off of his tongue with as little grace as an elephant on a tightrope. 

As soon as Sachirou trails off and rubs at his tired eyes with his forearm, momentarily obscuring the rest of the world from his view, he feels a furry mass rub against his leg. He drops his arm back by his side and looks down to see his dog, nuzzling at his calf as a low-pitched whine escapes his throat. It’s like Kotarou understands what Sachirou’s been saying and the pain in his voice. He knows how hard it is for Sachirou to come to terms with the fact that the path laid out for him since he was a child isn’t necessarily one he has to follow. A small, hesitant wave of relief washes over Sachirou. He’s not ready to run towards it yet, but he thinks he might see a pinpoint of light at the end of this dark tunnel. 

Overcome with emotions he hasn’t let himself experience since that encounter at sunset, Sachirou drops to his knees on the tile floor. He wraps his arms around Kotarou’s neck and clutches at his fur with his scarred, calloused fingers. Sachirou can’t hold back his tears anymore, so he lets them all out, wetting his coarse hair. Patiently, Kotarou allows him to do so.

Sachirou cries, thinking about the years he’s dedicated to volleyball and how much he used to love the thrill of the court. Sachirou cries, realizing he can’t remember the last time that thrill truly lit him up and electrified him. Sachirou cries, wondering when volleyball became more of a burden than a passion and how it never occurred to him until now that it’s not supposed to be this way; it doesn’t have to be this way. 

Sachirou cries and cries and cries. Sachirou cries enough to make up for the last few years of disillusioned heartache and then some. Sachirou cries until he can’t cry anymore.

By the time his cheeks are sticky from the tears and he’s in desperate need of a tissue, Sachirou feels ten times lighter and equally as exhausted. Gradually, he unwraps himself from where he’s tangled around his dog to stand back up. Sachirou can hear Kotarou’s tail resume wagging against the floor. The sound is familiar; comfortable, even with the tumultuous, foreign emotions raging in his head. He still doesn’t exactly know what he’ll do when he returns to school –– if or when he steps back onto the volleyball court –– but he hadn’t realized until now how cathartic it could be to just… cry his feelings out.

A thin, small smile finds its way onto Sachirou’s lips as he spares a glance back at his dog. It feels strange on his face and he can’t recall when he last smiled, genuinely. “Thank you for letting me do that,” he whispers to Kotarou, although the house is empty with no one else around to hear. “It helped a lot.”

 _Thump, thump._ As if he’s saying, _You’re welcome._

Sachirou turns back towards the counter, shuts his sore, red eyes for a few seconds, and takes a shaky breath. In a single swift motion, he picks up his chopsticks and his bowl of rice, then he walks towards the kitchen table. On his way, he passes a framed photo of himself and his siblings, practicing receiving around the volleyball net in their backyard. He doesn’t spare it a single glance.

Sachirou says his thanks and, hungry from so much crying, he shoves a big bite of cold rice into his mouth. Looking out the kitchen window while chewing, he catches sight of crows flying in a V formation across the cloudless Nagano sky with the mountains as a familiar backdrop.

_Burnout, huh?_

-

“Can I have some of that please?” Sachirou asks after a lap of diving drills, pointing at the water bottle in the other boy’s hand.

The boy (Sachirou had learned his name was Hoshiumi Kourai, but not until after he scolded Sachirou and told him to quit volleyball) looks up at him with an eyebrow raised. He hesitantly stretches his arm out to hand the yellow bottle to Sachirou. Sachirou takes it, feeling the liquid inside slosh around as he holds it up to his mouth and squirts a few bursts of water into his mouth. It’s shockingly cold, but refreshing. Sachirou hadn’t even realized how thirsty he was, so this is exactly what he needs.

Kourai scrutinizes him for a few seconds before opening his mouth to speak. “I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a few days…” 

Sachirou winces as he swallows, thinking back to when Kourai tugged on his backpack and held out his tissues with wide, understanding eyes. He’s acting differently now, yet Sachirou can tell that the concern Kourai had the other day is there. 

“…But… why are you still here?”

Sachirou decides to feign ignorance, returning the bottle to Kourai. “I go to school here, Hoshiumi-kun.”

For a moment, Kourai doesn’t look at him as he squeezes water into his own mouth. He gulps it down eagerly before turning those piercing eyes back in Sachirou’s direction. Somehow, they manage to send more shivers down Sachirou’s spine than the icy liquid had. “You know that’s not what I mean!” Kourai says loudly, attracting the attention of a few of their teammates nearby. He lowers his voice slightly when he continues, “Why are you still _here?_ Right now. In this volleyball club. Standing all by yourself and practicing diving drills like nothing’s changed?”

Just like during their first interaction, Kourai speaks so frankly, but without an ounce of condescension or pedagogy, that it takes Sachirou aback. Sachirou opens and closes his mouth a few times without speaking, because he finds that he himself doesn’t quite know the answer. To keep a sense of routine? What else would he do with his time? He can’t imagine how to explain dropping volleyball to his family? 

The teammates that had been standing close to them have migrated elsewhere, slowly returning to individual practice. Somewhere on the other side of the gym, a shoe squeaks against the wooden floor as someone runs up into a jump serve.

Finally, Sachirou snaps back to this conversation, straightening his back slightly and clearing his throat. He decides to tell the truth. “I’m not really sure why I decided to continue volleyball. But, that thing you said about quitting kinda opened my eyes, if I’m honest. I thought about it for a bit, and I don’t wanna quit. At least, not yet. But knowing I have that option… it helps me not worry too much. And, it gives me some strength to continue. I guess I should thank you for that, Hoshiumi-kun.” Sachirou does his best to muster a small smile, despite the fact that his mind is a whirlpool of incomprehensible thoughts and emotions and anxieties.

Sachirou doesn’t know Kourai well enough yet to tell him every other sentiment running through his head. Like, _I spent an hour this morning debating whether to come back. An hour with a tight chest, hands fisted by my side, tears in my eyes, unable to breathe, before I decided to return._

Or, _I don’t love volleyball, that’s true. I don’t think I’ll ever love it again. But I’m here, because what else is there for me to do? I don’t know enough about myself to figure that out._

And even, _Thank you, Hoshiumi-kun. Not just for showing me there’s a way out, eventually, but also for saving me from myself when I didn’t know who else to turn to._

He doesn’t say any of that. Sachirou’s never been close enough to any of his teammates to tell them intimate things like this. A small part of Sachirou — the optimistic part that he thought had drowned years ago — hopes he can tell Kourai all of these things, someday.

Flustered, Kourai sputters and takes a step back in surprise. “Why are you thanking me? It’s not like I meant to do you a favor or anything. I just told you the first thing that popped into my head.”

Sachirou can’t help but let out a small laugh. It’s so small it’s barely audible, yet it feels like the biggest laugh he’s been able to muster in years. 

“But you didn’t have to say anything. It’s kinda like if I saw an injured bird out on the road. I don’t _have_ to help it. I can keep walking and act like I never saw it. I think that’s what most people would do, because they’d take one look at that bird and assume it’s beyond saving. You wouldn’t keep walking, though. I mean, I don’t know you very well, but you don’t seem like you would. You seem like the kind of person who’d go up to the bird, give it some water, and make sure it gets to the other side of the street safely. Hoshiumi-kun, thanks for taking me to the other side of the street,” Sachirou gestures to the water bottle still in Kourai’s hand, “And for giving me some of your water.”

Kourai’s eyes widen and Sachirou can’t help but notice a slight blush creep up his neck. “Just… forget about it! It’s common courtesy, and the same goes for helping a bird. I didn’t magically fix anything, okay?”

Sachirou simply nods and takes the bottle back from Kourai. “That’s true. You probably can’t fix a broken wing by yourself, but you _can_ make sure it doesn’t get any worse.”

“What exactly does this have to do with volleyball?” Kourai asks bluntly, obviously trying to change the subject. It shocks Sachirou out of his thoughts and makes him laugh again.

“You’re right, sorry for the tangent.” 

Sachirou pauses, and the silence is comfortable. The space between them is easily filled by the ambient sounds of practice around them. “Hey, Hoshiumi-kun, I noticed you working on your serves the other day.” Kourai’s lips part in surprise. “Do you wanna do some serve practice together? I’m not the best, but I can try to give you a few pointers.”

“Hirugami, give yourself a little more credit,” Kourai gives Sachirou a light, playful punch in the shoulder, “But yeah, I’d appreciate that a lot, actually! I’m having some trouble getting that perfect balance between precision and power.”

Sachirou nods, understanding.

A spark of gratitude for his new friend blooms in his chest.

-

“Your hair’s getting long, Sachirou,” Shouko observes from the doorway.

Sachirou puts the magazine he borrowed from Kourai down on the kitchen table, rubbing the top of his head with his palm. He expects to feel the scratchy stubble of a buzzcut, but instead finds himself tugging on the few millimeters of scruff sitting atop it. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” he says frankly, his mind elsewhere. His hair is the last thing he’s worried about, now that he’s stopped fussing over making sure that every little thing in his is helping him do well in volleyball. His hair is no longer something that can hold him back or set him apart from his opponents. It’s just… hair. 

Shouko sets her empty water glass on the counter next to the sink and walks over to Sachirou to ruffle his hair. He gently slaps her hand away and glares up at her, trying to muster up all the intimidation he can manage. Considering he’s barely 15 and his older sister still towers over him, it isn’t much. 

“Yeah, it’s definitely longer. I haven’t seen it this long since… well, I guess when you were in elementary school?” Shouko slides into the seat across from him and props her elbows up on the table, resting her chin in her hands. Sachirou wants to get back to the manga he’d been reading — he was getting to the good part, when the protagonist uses their ultimate move, and he wanted to talk to Kourai about it later — but Shouko obviously wants to talk more.

“I was small, so I can’t really remember. I’ll take your word for it,” he replies with a shrug, lifting the magazine again in hopes of ending their conversation there.

It’s not that Sachirou doesn’t like his sister — he loves her and they’ve always been close — but with his family, the only thing they ever want to talk about lately is volleyball. How he’s doing with volleyball. What kind of exercises they’re doing at volleyball practice. How far his volleyball team got in the latest tournament. Sachirou would rather discuss literally anything else.

Still, as stubborn as ever, she continues, “You started shaving it so that it wouldn’t bother you while you’re playing, right? What changed?”

He’s not surprised that she’s so stuck on this, and he knows she means well. They always mean well, whether it’s his brother asking what his new jumping height is or his mom picking up the phone and immediately listing off new drills for him to try out. Sachirou just wishes they could take such a vested interest in other parts of his life too. He hopes maybe they will, with time; once they learn that his years left in volleyball are numbered, unlike theirs.

It’s difficult, though, because for the Hirugamis, all roads lead back to volleyball. Except for Sachirou. That much he knows, even if he hasn’t figured out where exactly his path will take him after this. He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. Once he makes it that far, he knows his sister will support him no matter what, even if she teases him endlessly along the way.

Sachirou doesn’t look up from his magazine when he finally responds, “Nee-chan, do _you_ always have deep reasons for every little thing that you do?”

Sachirou from a few months ago would have immediately answered _yes_ to this question. Even Sachirou, in this moment, is trying to reconcile with the fact that not all of his actions need to be scrutinized to death. Unlearning his harmful beliefs is a long process, but he now understands that something as inconsequential as hair or a single fumbled serve isn’t worth getting hung up on.

Shouko snorts out a laugh, and Sachirou can hear her chair scraping away from the table. She ruffles his hair one last time and gives him a quick one-armed hug on her way out. “No, I guess you have a point there. You’re wiser than you look, Sachirou.” She continues towards the door to the kitchen, where she stops at the threshold and calls back to him, “You’re starting at Kamomedai next week, right?”

Sachirou looks over at her and nods hesitantly. She grins back, eyes shining with excitement. Even if it’s just volleyball, Shouko’s warm smile and unwavering encouragement have always filled Sachirou with a sense of pride. She might annoy him when he wants to read manga, but he’s happy to have her as a sister.

“The girls on my team said that the boys’ volleyball team over there is improving a lot under their new coach,” she tells him enthusiastically. “High school can be scary, but I think you’re really gonna enjoy it.”

Without waiting for a response, she spins on her heel and disappears from the room. Sachirou can hear her humming a pop song as she disappears down the hall.

His head droops down back to the magazine in his hands, but he’s no longer registering any of the images on the page. For the first time in years, Sachirou lets himself believe she’s right.

He hopes he _will_ be happy with his decision.

-

“I thought you would’ve been in the stands by now,” Sachirou asks, placing a hand on Kourai’s shoulder. Kourai is unphased by Sachirou’s sudden appearance, keeping his eyes intently trained on Ichibayashi’s ace as he prepares to attack, arms trailing behind him. Sachirou has to admit, his form is exceptional. He takes a mental note to work on his own form next time they have practice.

“I won’t be able to see as well from up there,” Kourai responds simply.

Sachirou retracts his arm and stuffs both hands into his jacket pockets. He gives Kourai a slight nudge with his hip before dragging his own gaze back towards center court, where the final match is in full swing. “Oh? Maybe you should invest in some glasses, Kourai-kun,” he jokes, trying to keep the conversation light. His words hang in the air, the space between them filled only by the yells of the crowd and the occasional off-tune bleat of a trumpet.

Although they’ve been eliminated, Sachirou can’t find it in himself to feel disappointed or angry. Three years ago, he would’ve been the type to sit in the hall and stew in his frustration. To stay up at night wondering where he went wrong and cursing himself for it. To scrutinize every frame of the game tapes the next day, mentally punishing himself for every little mistake. Now, though, win or lose, it doesn’t really matter to him either way. He knows they did the best they could, and everything else he left on the court.

Kourai, on the other hand… 

Sachirou knows Kourai well enough to know he’s not a sore loser in any sense of the phrase. But this year’s Spring Tournament has brought with it a number of unexpected developments, from a battle between little giants to their progression all the way to semifinals. Now that the dust is finally settling around them, Sachirou finds himself holding his breath for the fallout.

A timeout whistle blows, almost lost among the noise of both teams’ cheering sections. Kourai takes advantage of a break in the action to finally shift and face Sachirou with a scoff. After hours of uncharacteristic quiet, that scoff is a breath of fresh air; crisp, like Nagano springtime. “Absolutely not. My eyesight has been perfect my entire life, and it’s perfect now.” With slightly less indignation, Kourai continues, “You know that’s not what I mean anyway…” The match resumes and he trails off.

“I know.” Sachirou rocks back and forth on his feet, watching a spike skirt past the blockers’ hands. A voice in the back of his mind whispers _I could’ve stopped that._ Even if it doesn’t matter to him whether they win or lose, he’s still that kid who thought volleyball was fun. More so lately, he’s had so much fun, and he doesn’t want his fun to end as much as Kourai doesn’t want to lose. “But how much of a difference is it really gonna make whether you’re watching from here or in the stands?”

“Enough of a difference.”

Sachirou just nods, deciding it isn’t the time for another taunt. Kourai wants nothing more than to be able to concentrate on the match right now, anyway. 

So, they stand there beside each other, floating in the sea of fanfare. There’s whistles and shouts and marching bands, but Sachirou doesn’t register any of it. Instead, he’s tuned in to Kourai, sneaking glances at his friend out of the corner of his eye. Kourai’s gaze never wavers from the court, following the movements of the ball and the lightning fast plays, taking everything in with his eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought. Sachirou can tell Kourai is absorbing as much information as possible, storing away the finalists’ strategies to try them out himself later. 

In Kourai’s eyes, though, is a kind of comforting ferocity that Sachirou wouldn’t have thought possible before they met. There’s a complete lack of anger or sadness, and Sachirou realizes how silly he was to be concerned about Kourai of all people. He lets himself relax, taking his own eyes off of Kourai, looking instead to the future and where the two of them can go from here. Sachirou has become pretty good at thinking ahead lately and, contrary to the commentators’ claims, he has become pretty good at constantly moving forward, too.

Somewhere in the back of Sachirou’s mind, the whistle blows to signal the end of the fourth set, and Kourai’s shoulders slump over for the first time since finals began. Despite his relaxed stance, Kourai’s fierce expression doesn’t change at all. “Sachirou?” he begins, intently watching the teams switch sides as if this, too, is something he can learn from his opponents.

“Hm?”

Kourai looks up at him, frowning. “My feet are tired.”

Sachirou blinks back at Kourai a few times in shock before doubling over in laughter, ignoring the disapproving looks from other spectators nearby. “Well, you made your bed by standing down here for so long, might as well lie in it…”

“Shaddup,” Kourai pouts, poking Sachirou in the chest. It’s a hard poke, but the emotional significance of it relieves the last of Sachirou’s tension. Kourai feels content enough to joke around again. “Let’s hurry and sit down before the final set starts. I don’t wanna miss a single play.”

Kourai brushes past Sachirou, hunching his back to walk over towards the arena hall. Sachirou smiles to himself as he watches Kourai go. After a second or two, he moves as well, trailing a few steps behind. 

Before they make it over the threshold, though, Kourai comes to an abrupt halt and twirls around to look at Sachirou again. A couple of other high schoolers filing past them groan at the weird kid taking up space in the doorway, but Kourai obviously doesn’t care. Thanks to that same trademark intensity in his eyes and a hint of a smirk on his lips, it’s obvious that nothing is more important than what he has to say right now.

“Next year, Sachirou,” he begins, not making any attempt to lower his voice, “we’ll be the best team here, no question about it. I won’t even settle for simply making it to finals anymore. _We’ll win the whole thing.”_

Sachirou grins in spite of himself, because Kourai’s fervor is infectious. Win or lose, it may not matter to him either way, but it matters to Kourai that they do their best. It’ll be their final year playing side by side. Sachirou wants to be there to help take them all the way together.

“You say that like it’s not obvious,” Sachirou replies. “Of course we’re gonna win, Kourai-kun.” 

He’s never felt more sincere.

-

Kotarou barks twice, tugging on his leash in an attempt to chase after a bird on the sidewalk ahead. At Sachirou’s side, Kourai laughs, struggling to keep Kotarou reigned in. 

“How do you handle him so well?” Kourai asks, turning towards Sachirou with bright eyes. “If I ease up at all, he’ll go running off after the first thing that catches his eye.”

Sachirou inhales, breathing in the brisk early spring air. It’s only been a few days since graduation, but the cherry blossom-lined walk is already tinted pink with nostalgia and the knowledge that the two of them won’t be able to do things like this often anymore. One side of his mouth twitches upward and he leans over, bumping Kourai with his hip. “I guess I just have more practice dealing with difficult animals,” he replies smugly.

Kourai nods understandingly for a moment before realization shadows his face and he gapes at Sachirou in exaggerated horror. “Hey! I know what you’re implying and I am _nothing_ like your dog.” 

Sachirou pulls his hand out of his jacket pocket and begins counting on his fingers. “Let’s see… you both have a tendency to act out with strangers when you think you’re being threatened, you have questionable impulse control, you wander off when I take my eye off you for one second—”

“If I wasn’t too preoccupied trying to keep Kotarou from running away, I’d punch you right now.”

Sachirou laughs, holding a hand out as a way of offering to take the leash from Kourai, but he shakes his head vigorously. “You didn’t let me finish,” Sachirou continues, his eyes following Kotarou as he wanders over to sniff a patch of grass a short distance from the path. “Something else you both have in common is that I’ll miss you a lot when I’m away at school.”

Sachirou takes a few steps forward before he realizes that Kourai’s come to a stop. He twirls on his heel to look at him, finding his expression to be surprisingly pensive and calm. “I’ll miss you, too, Sachirou,” he says after a second, finding his second wind, “but you don’t have to say that like you’re going far away for a long time without any way of contacting us, you know. Plus, you said it yourself: it’s something you love, so it’s worth it.”

“Kourai-kun,” Sachirou says, and despite how different they both are now, something about this moment reminds him of the first time they met. “I didn’t mean it like that at all. I mean, sometimes it does cross my mind that we could both get too busy and lose touch, but I think I know better than to actually believe that’ll happen. You’re too stubborn to let me ignore you, anyway.”

At that, Kourai mockingly sticks his tongue out, and Sachirou smiles but doesn’t acknowledge it otherwise. “It’s just gonna be… different. I’ve gotten so used to seeing you almost every day over the past three years, it’ll be strange not to have you constantly ranting my ear off.”

Sachirou marvels at how it feels as if his friendship with Kourai has lasted a lifetime, rather than just a little under four years. How he can’t even remember what it was like to not have Kourai serve as a constant reminder of the important lesson Sachirou learned when they met. He has yet to thank Kourai for breaking him out of his own head. 

For now, though, sharing a National Champion title and walking Kotarou together will have to be enough. He hopes Kourai understands what it means to Sachirou. Something about the affection in Kourai’s eyes tells Sachirou that he does.

“I can still rant over the phone!” Kourai affirms, grinning. “It won’t be _exactly_ the same, because my presence is irreplaceable, but phone calls and video chats are an alright substitute. At least until I can visit you and you get to experience the real thing again!”

“You’re gonna visit me? Oh boy, guess I’ll have to put all the breakable stuff on the high shelves,” Sachirou teases. He braces his shoulders against the spring breeze that’s slowly strengthening into a spring gust, but the happiness in Sachirou’s chest warms him from the inside out.

“I! Am! Not! Like! Your! Dog!” Kourai squawks. Sachirou just laughs and ruffles Kourai’s hair, despite his protests. This time, Kourai lets Sachirou take the leash from him, and they finish their walk in relative peace — or as much peace as can be had with Kourai around — while reminiscing about high school memories and planning to make new ones together.

Of course it’ll be different for Sachirou to leave Kourai and volleyball and his family.

But Sachirou won’t allow himself to shy away from this change.

-

Sachirou sits in his childhood bed, eyeing his backpack and its contents where they’re strewn across the floor as if his gaze alone is enough to erase them from existence. He’s more than halfway through his second year of vet school, but his short winter break isn’t enough time for him to master the skill of incinerator vision.

A high-pitched whine at the door finally draws him away from the staring contest with his anatomy book. He slides off his bed and strides over to let Kotarou in. The dog looks happy to see Sachirou, and Sachirou is happy to see him, especially after being away for months at school where the only dogs he’s allowed to see are diagrams in his textbooks or lab skeletons in his classrooms. 

Sachirou leans down to scratch him behind the ears, in the exact way that he knows Kotarou loves. “Did you miss me?” he asks quietly. “I missed you, too, boy. It’s rough out there without you.”

Kotarou responds by looking up at him with wide, attentive eyes. Sachirou’s always been logical enough to know that there’s no way Kotarou can comprehend what Sachirou talks to him about. But, when Kotarou’s ears perk up and he tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, Sachirou suspects that the dog listens and understands more than he lets on. How else could Kotarou have helped Sachirou back when he was hurting?

“Truth is, Kotarou,” Sachirou continues, sitting on the floor and stretching his legs out in front of him as Kotarou lays down, nestling into his side, “it’s _really_ hard sometimes. To keep going with it all. I have my moments where it’s like the past six years never happened. I get so caught up in myself and every little thing that I might mess up on. Or other times, when it’s the opposite, and I wish I could forget everything. Just run away, you know? You tried to run away that one time when I was ten, so you understand the temptation. Maybe I was wrong, and this vet school thing isn’t for me after all.”

Kotarou doesn't bark and he doesn't respond. He doesn't know what vet school is like. He's a dog. Still, it feels good for Sachirou to talk to him and get these messy emotions off his chest.

Sachirou admits, “It’s not like my grades are bad or anything. I think a lot of my classmates would be jealous of my grades…” He drifts off for a moment, lost in his own thoughts. His grades are good and that’s supposed to satisfy him. But some part of him doesn’t think he’s earned the right to be satisfied. What if the good grades are just a fluke?

The space heater in the corner of Sachirou’s room sputters. Kotarou lifts his head up, confused at Sachirou's silence. Sachirou goes on, “Maybe that’s part of the problem. It’s like, people think just because you’re good at something, you _can’t make_ mistakes, and you _have_ to love every second of it.”

Sachirou leans back against the wall next to his bedroom door and heaves out a long sigh. It’s strange to be home, although it hasn’t been long since his last visit. Somewhere else in the house, Shouko howls with laughter and he can hear the faucet run in the kitchen. Heavy footsteps recede down the hallway in a rush. The familiar sounds make him feel like a middle schooler again: confused and bitter. 

The pictures on his wall stare back at him, as unyielding as his dog. Cutouts from magazines that he or his family appeared in, highlighting their seemingly genetic volleyball talent. Photographs of the Kamomedai volleyball team in action. One of Kourai, Gao, and Sachirou in their third year, Sachirou with his arms slung over their shoulders as they bicker with each other in an argument frozen in time. The familiar images make him feel like a high schooler again: apathetic and indifferent.

Despite this, Sachirou can’t ignore that he’s grown since both of these periods of his life, in more than just physical height. Now, he has that spark of passion to drive him forward. One that he’d snuffed out in middle school, but tried to carefully cultivate and nurse throughout high school. Slowly, over the past year and a half, he’s been building it back up into a full blown flame. Sometimes, in moments like today, it falters when a strong gust of self doubt blows in, but he’s been able to maintain a few burning embers at least. 

The sights and sounds of his childhood home help to fan the flames, reminding Sachirou what he’s been through to get to this moment. Reminding him that it’s okay to feel like this sometimes, as long as he doesn’t let it extinguish him completely.

Sachirou smiles down at Kotarou with the most relief he’s felt since before exams. “But even then, it’s fine if I don’t love it _all_ the time, right? It might be scary when that happens, but the fact that I’m scared is proof enough that this is something I want to do for a long time.” Sachirou gives the dog one final pat on his head before getting back to his feet. “I don’t plan on quitting this anytime soon.”

_Because it’s something I like…_

-

“Did you see my service ace get us that break point in the final set?” Kourai asks in lieu of a greeting as soon as Sachirou steps foot onto the court. The other audience members filing out around them look in their direction, confused by the shouting.

Sachirou pretends to be digging around his backpack as he dryly replies, “I must’ve missed it. And I missed the replay of it on the big screen. I also missed when the commentators went wild over it.” He looks up and frowns teasingly. “Sorry, Kourai-kun.”

“I guess I’ll just have to do it again next time you come and watch us,” Kourai announces, a knowing grin on his face. He realizes that Sachirou is simply messing with him as usual, but Kourai wants an excuse for him to watch Adlers matches from the stands more often.

Before Sachirou can reply, an arm lands across his shoulders and an incredibly familiar voice says, “You don’t have to wait for him to see us in person, Kourai. Hasn’t Sachirou told you that he streams our matches all the time when he’s at school? I’m sure he’s seen plenty of your service aces.”

Sachirou sticks his tongue out at Fukurou, like he’s ten again and Fukurou just spiked a volleyball straight at him during passing drills. Sachirou has to at least pretend to be mad at his cover being blown, even though Kourai’s always been aware that Sachirou enjoys watching him play. “Actually, nii-chan, when I stream your games I don’t see Kourai-kun’s service aces as often as I have to watch _you_ constantly letting your opponents’ hits get through your blocks. Your poor libero has to do so much work thanks to you that Kourai-kun is left to pick up the slack.”

Fukurou chokes out a startled chuckle while Kourai doubles over in laughter. He gives Fukurou a few heavy pats on the back, sending him lurching forward despite Kourai’s comparatively smaller stature. “Don’t worry, Captain! No matter how many balls you let come my way, I’ll be there to make sure they don’t touch the ground.” He lowers his voice to a stage whisper. “And between you and me, Sachirou hasn’t practiced his blocks or passes in months. Don’t let an _amateur_ get you down.” Kourai winks exaggeratedly.

“When _you two_ figure out how I can manage my time between being a full-time student, intern, having a social life, _and_ regularly practicing volleyball, then you let me know,” Sachirou huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. Still, he’s smiling.

It’s strange to him, to see Kourai and his brother spending time together; playing and practicing together like Sachirou and Kourai used to do. Fukurou’s connections with the Adlers got Kourai a try-out, but even after a few years of Kourai moving his way up through the V-League, Sachirou’s still getting used to seeing him play as a fully-fledged professional. He has to work extra hard to reconcile the three distinct versions of Kourai in his head: the kid from Squad 2 who spent most of his time playing ball boy and happened upon Sachirou with a convenient pack of tissues, the self-assured star ace of Kamomedai who won them the title of National Champions in their third year, and this current version of Kourai. 

This Kourai, who’s finally, truly earned his Little Giant nickname. The one that kids ask for autographs on their programs and volleyballs. Sachirou telling Kourai he didn’t catch his service ace was such an obvious lie, because no one in that gymnasium could take their eyes off of him. It’s heartwarming for Sachirou to see how far his friend has come. For Sachirou to know he had a part to play in the journey to this point, just like Kourai played such a big role in Sachirou’s.

The sound of the crowd around them slowly fades out as Sachirou continues his conversation with Fukurou and Kourai. Fewer children interrupt them to ask for signatures and the music that began blaring over the speakers after the Adlers’ victory has long-since ended. Sachirou doesn’t know how long they stand there on the side of the court, joking and reminiscing. Sachirou tells his brother all kinds of embarrassing stories about his teammate, savoring the horrified look on Kourai’s face as he describes the time his best friend somehow got tangled up in the volleyball net one evening when they were cleaning up after practice and Coach Murphy had to cut him out of it.

By the time the large gymnasium is completely empty, aside from a few Adlers teammates and fanatic stragglers, it’s almost dark outside. Kourai says goodbye, heading back to the changing room and leaving the two brothers by themselves. It’s been a while since Sachirou and Fukurou spent time alone together. Fukurou hasn’t lived at home in years, not since he went pro, and Sachirou’s been so busy finishing up vet school that he’s barely able to visit family much at all. He only came to this match today for a rare, stress-free outing on one of his few free weekends.

“Did our win today make you miss it?” Fukuruou asks abruptly, breaking the awkward silence that had settled around them in Kourai’s gaping absence. “Volleyball, I mean.”

Sachirou’s eyes widen slightly at the unexpected question. He thinks for a moment about his answer. “I miss it all the time, if I’m being honest. I mean… obviously, I don’t miss the constant pressure of practice and perfection. But I miss having fun with it. Trying to figure out what your opponent is gonna do next and the satisfaction of shutting them down once you know.” In spite of himself, Sachirou smiles. “I miss that, but it’s fun to watch you guys do all of it, too.”

Fukurou hums. “Sometimes, I still wish you could be out there with me. I know it’s selfish, but I had this image in my head of us playing side-by-side someday.” He shrugs. “It’s a hard picture to shake.”

“Hey, nii-chan, don’t worry,” he nudges Fukurou gently with his elbow, “We can play side-by-side, though. It might not be professionally, out here on one of these courts with fancy uniforms on our backs. But we can play on the court at home. Shouko-nee-chan will be so mad if we can snuff one of her hits, it’ll be hilarious. We could block Kourai-kun pretty effectively, too, if we tried. I might be a little rusty but I’m sure I can fill in your gaps, and it seems like you have plenty.”

Fukurou laughs, gripping Sachirou’s shoulder. “That sounds like fun.” Then, he grins, wickedly reminiscent of Sachirou’s own game-face smirk. “We can even play against each other again, like we used to. Then I’m sure you’ll eat your words and respect your big brother.”

“Sure thing, grandpa,” Sachirou quips, patting Fukurou on his back. “Then after that, we can bring the dinosaurs back to life.”

Fukurou gives Sachirou a playful punch in the arm. After Sachirou feigns injury for a couple seconds, they fall into a silence much more comfortable than before.

Again, Fukurou is the one to speak first. “You don’t regret leaving it behind? Even though you’re so busy and we hardly see you, you enjoy doing what you’re doing?”

Sachirou takes a deep breath before turning to look at Fukurou. This is a question he doesn’t have to think about before answering. “I don’t regret it at all. I’m swamped and stressed right now, but it’s always worth it. I’m finally happy with my decisions, nii-chan.”

Fukurou’s eyes soften and he places his arm around Sachirou’s shoulders. This time, it’s not a patronizing or teasing gesture at all, but a comfort. Sachirou can feel the support and pride practically pouring out of this one small act.

“Then I’m happy for you, too, Sachirou.”

-

When he receives his degree, it feels unreal to be able to see his name on the same page as _Doctor of Veterinary Medicine._ The graduation ceremony and everything afterward goes by in a fugue state, as if he’s still in high school and he dreamt the past six years. A handshake from his favorite professor. A pat on the back from the clinic owner at his new job. A tackle and a hug from his brother and his sister. Long after it’s over, he feels the weight of their actions, but they don’t burden him like they used to. Now, they give him strength to work hard, to get better, to let things go and to trust himself.

The mistakes will never stop, even now. But they don’t tear him apart like they used to. As long as he doesn’t hurt anyone or anything, Sachirou plans on taking his time to do his job right and to continue learning as he goes. The people around him have taught him what he needs to succeed, so all that’s left is for Sachirou to carry their lessons, support, and love close to his heart moving forward.

Maybe he’s not successful in volleyball, but that’s not what he wants anymore. When he thinks about it at his graduation dinner surrounded by the people he cares about — Kourai at his elbow debating the best flavor of kappa ebisen with Sachirou’s vet school friends, Fukurou drunk off two beers slurring dad jokes in Shouko’s equally-tipsy direction — Sachirou realizes he probably never _really_ wanted that like he thought he did. He wanted something to be proud of. Something he loves to do and has fun with. Something that felt good and _right_. This is all he needs to be happy. With his new veterinarian degree and a job lined up, he finally has that within his grasp.

Later that night, when he lays in bed holding that thick piece of paper above his head, Sachirou thinks about everything it took to get to where he is. The sleepless nights, the callouses, the long study sessions that made him question his choices. But he also thinks about the friends he’s met, the animals he’s helped, the lessons he’s learned, and even the _mistakes._ He decides it’s been worth it.

He’ll spend his life doing what he likes, and it’s all been worth it.

-

**Author's Note:**

> hirugami's arc and themes meant a lot to me, despite how little real screentime he had. that's why i wanted to attempt to expand upon them, and i can only hope this ode to his character did him justice. 
> 
> thank you furudate for creating such a wide, yet nuanced, cast of characters.
> 
> thank you [mk](https://twitter.com/lolmeurp) for beta-reading and all your patience!
> 
> thank you [jae](https://twitter.com/okkochu) for creating [this lovely piece](https://twitter.com/okkochu/status/1368512139279802371?s=21) to correspond with my fic!
> 
> thank you hqbb 2020 mods for organizing the event!
> 
> and thank **you** for reading!
> 
> come yell with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/vethirugami)


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